My sweet tooth is no secret to anyone; knowledge of this has become so commonplace that I frequently receive huge amounts of chocolate at holiday times. Evil people have strategically placed vending machines at work, and my weakness for candy is only surpassed by the speed at which change leaves my pocket.

On Friday, somebody in the office had a birthday. There was dessert hanging out on the front counter as a result, slightly less than a quarter of store-bought chocolate cake, with the anti-flavor but oh-so-pretty icing. I looked at the confection long and hard, then decided that as I had already eaten two candy bars prior to this in the day, I should restrain myself from partaking of this new temptation.

But then the no-nonsense secretary lady said that she was going to throw the remains out unless someone took them, and everyone looked at me. I hemmed and hawed, and I tried to say no.

... but I took the cake. Even if the frosting tastes of nothing, it's still cake.